


I could have danced all night

by stateofintegrity



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27135379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity
Summary: Father Mulcahy throws a charity dance. Klinger calls in a marker.
Relationships: Maxwell Klinger/Charles Emerson Winchester III
Comments: 5
Kudos: 9





	I could have danced all night

It wasn’t that Charles Emerson Winchester III hadn’t noticed the 4077th’s excuse for a Corporal before. Even in the surreal world of a police action, Klinger stood out - and Charles suspected that he would have done so even without the dresses and heels. But noting the man bearing a litter or sparring with him in the Mess Tent was one thing. Looking directly into his dark eyes was another. 

Given the disparity in their respective heights, Winchester shouldn’t have  _ been able _ to look Klinger in the eye - not easily. But, as any long term resident of the 4077th would have been able to tell him, the place had a sort of  _ Alice in Wonderland _ effect when it put forth the effort. And while it was possible to shut  _ Alice _ and walk away with only slight disorientation, it was hard to shake the sheer weirdness of the camp. After all, they weren’t able to leave. 

So, when the 4077th decided to shuffle things around so that he and Klinger were on eye level, Charles wasn’t ready. The first time almost made him laugh - he hadn’t been ready for Klinger in a maid’s outfit, either - but then those eyes locked on his and any instinct to laugh was replaced with some unknown element. His lips pressed together, flattened out as if to say, “Hmm, what is this?” 

Klinger didn’t seem nearly as caught off guard under the inquiring eyes looking steadily into his, but his lips parted as if to say something and he looked away first, returning to whatever task had him climbing chairs in the first place. 

“Do be careful, Corporal,” Charles heard himself say to his back as he departed. “You are wearing the wrong shoes for that.”

The next time was on a ladder.

Their gazes locked as before; Charles swore he heard a sound like magnets clacking, one into the other. The Major won his freedom more easily this time, striding past to retrieve the supplies he’d come for. “Layered petticoats, Corporal?”

“Cold nights, Major.”

He made a note to look into warm stockings; if Klinger was going to put enough work into his costumes to reach that level of detail, he deserved to be warm while doing so. 

The swivel chair was next.

Charles hadn't even known the camp  _ had _ a swivel chair. 

Of course, even if he had known, he wouldn’t have predicted that, on opening the door to Potter’s office, he would have startled Klinger badly enough to send him spinning  _ out _ of it. 

“Good catch, Major.”

“You are lighter than I thought you 2ould be.” It was a patently absurd remark, especially considering that he’d never (at least to his conscious knowledge) thought anything about Klinger’s weight at all. Fortunately, a good medical eye covered a host of other sins. “Rolled that ankle a little, didn’t you?” 

Klinger’s eyes got positively huge. “How do you know that?”

“Saw it happen. Here.” He eased him down on top of the desk, knelt at his feet, chuckled. “It seems that I have gotten so accustomed to seeing you on top of things, of being eye to eye, Corporal, that any other view seems distorted.”

Klinger looked down into the surprisingly gentle face looking up into his. “We’re backwards, Major. I’m supposed to look up to you.” He winced then as Charles felt around the swelling ankle. 

“You are going to have to elevate that.”

“The Colonel wants those photographs straightened and dusted, sir.”

“They’ll keep.” He shoved the swivel chair aside. “He needs to get you a step stool.” He intended, then, to help the Corporal back to his tent. When he rose, however, he realized how very awkward the task would be. He could bend down, of course, or Klinger could put an arm around his waist. Either version was likely to provide more instability than anything else. 

Making an executive decision, he restored Klinger to his arms, rationalizing that he’d been there once with few ill effects. 

“Major?” Klinger asked, surprised at how easily he was swept up; he might be lighter than he appeared, but it seemed that the physician, for his part, was stronger. “You were really serious about that eye to eye thing, huh?”

Charles didn’t dignify this. For his part, Klinger didn’t remind him that the 4077th was well supplied with wheelchairs. Why ruin a good thing? 

In the Corporal’s tent, Charles settled him and propped up the injured ankle. “There,” he said, once it had been taped. “You will be dancing again in no time.”

Though technically on the disabled list, Klinger hadn’t lost his instinct for mischief. “Can I take that as an invitation, sir?”

Charles’ sarcasm was a perfect match for that mischief. “Klinger, if this mad place ever provides a situation in which we two could be dance partners, I will be honored to spin you around the floor.”

***

Winchester didn’t expect his words to circle back on him in quite the way they did, but his tentmates had to concede that he comported himself well - even if they teased him mercilessly. The dance off had been Mulcahy’s idea. It not only benefited charity - it gave the personnel, weary of army green, a chance to show themselves off. 

And since things were slow, the original idea  _ grew _ . BJ learned that Margaret had never gotten to go to prom because she had been a military brat and spent those nights slated for teenage romance packing and unpacking boxes. From that moment on, the dance-off became a prom night… with several different themes imposed on the mess tent because no one could agree. The end result was gaudy - a sort of party store explosion - but it was pure 4077th. 

The unintended consequence was that Klinger was kept quite busy loaning and altering his wardrobe - but not so busy that he forgot to remind Charles of his promise.

And no one enjoyed the resulting situation more than Hawkeye Pierce. “You’re really going to take  _ Klinger _ !? Our Klinger?”

BJ jerked his head toward Winchester. “ _ His _ now, I think.”

“I told him I would. A Winchester never breaks his word.”

“Oh, c’mon, Charles! You can’t tell me you ever thought you’d have to keep that promise!”

“That isn’t the point, Pierce.” He turned to BJ. “I shudder to think of what poor, naive girl Pierce has managed to talk into his web, but what of you, Hunnicutt?”

“I’m sitting this one out. All my dances are for Peg.”

“Surely she wouldn’t mind!”

“She wouldn’t. But I do. What I am  _ not _ abstaining from, however, is betting on the winner. Do me proud, Charles.”

Winchester looked pleasantly surprised. “You’re betting  _ against _ your best friend?”

“Sure. Between your determination and Klinger’s grace, Hawk doesn’t have a chance.” 

Margaret was equally amused at the spectacle made by Charles in class As and Klinger in tiara and ice blue ballgown … but she did envy the rose Charles had managed to scare up for his wrist. (She also envied  _ Klinger _ \- all that height wasted on a man in a dress!) 

And they did dance well together, it turned out, holding the floor until only Radar and his teddy bear and Kellye and a patient remained. 

Klinger bumped his face against the Major’s shoulder; he’d been nuzzling closer all night, seeing what Charles would allow. “Major, isn't this cheating, sort of?" 

“Winchesters do not cheat, Klinger. My feet are still on the floor. And if anyone can see under your skirt, I am going to be quite upset."

So the pair proved BJ correct - even if Maxwell had to stand on Charles’ feet to do it, his own feet blistered because he’d chosen the wrong shoes. The Major  _ had _ complimented them, however, so he wasn’t chucking them out. They held too many good memories, now. 

At night’s end, Charles escorted him back to his tent, walking slowly, sleepily. At the door, Klinger balanced on his shoes once more. “To see eye to eye, again,” he teased. 

Winchester lifted him up another inch to make it true. “I do not know, my dear girl, when we will next be provided with the opportunity to dance together, but I hope you will permit me to ask you if it does arise.” 

Klinger thrilled at this new form of address. “There’s always our engagement party.” 

Winchester kissed him quiet… but he didn’t say no. 

End! 

  
  
  
  



End file.
